


Let's Go Sunning

by Kal_El_Fornia



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 3
Genre: Crime, F/M, Gen, Horror, Rape, non-con, trigger - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-27
Updated: 2014-08-27
Packaged: 2018-02-14 23:31:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2207154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kal_El_Fornia/pseuds/Kal_El_Fornia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Eulogy Jones sells two slave girls to the Lone Wanderer, they learn what it truly means to actually suffer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let's Go Sunning

**Warning: The following contains scenes of torture, harsh language, implied rape, violence against women, and many other terrible things. If any of these things trigger you, if they are too much of a hard topic to enjoy, please close this page and find a different story to read. I cannot stress this enough that if there are things that trigger you, that they may be found in this story.**

I wrote this story here out of a need that I had within myself to see if I could really actually write a character who was a true monster. Think of the Gregor Cleganes of the world, or the Jokers. I actually kind of surprised myself with what I wrote, and I truly do feel a bit uneasy looking back and reading through the story. I was unsure whether or not to actually post it. In any case, it is rated "T" at the moment, though, I think I may change it to "M" with some thought. There are no sex scenes or anything like that, but it is pretty intense and disturbing.

Testing yourself is always a good thing, even if the outcome of whatever you wanted to test yourself with makes you uncomfortable, and it was a lesson that I myself learned today. From the onset of my idea, I felt that the Lone Wanderer of _**Fallout**_ fame was a good choice to use this 'complete monster' practice that I wanted to try my hand at penning, and I feel, if not comfortable, then at least satisfied that what I eventually did filled the initial criteria that I set before myself to do. Once again, please be careful about reading. Use your caution and take my warning to heart, and have a nice day at the end of it all.

Quote of the day:

_**"Some men aren't looking for anything logical, like money. They can't be bought, bullied, reasoned or negotiated with. Some men just want to watch the world burn."** _

_**— Alfred Pennyworth, The Dark Knight** _

* * *

The Lone Wanderer tiredly waved his silenced pistol in front of one of the two slave girls he had purchased from Eulogy Jones back in Paradise Falls, and as he gave her a few more seconds to run, just as had been promised, he grinned and made sure that his gun was loaded. He counted down from ten as she desperately tried to get away from him, before he gave a light chuckle and aimed his pistol in her direction. He only needed one shot to take the girl down, and as the bullet whizzed silently in the air through the back of her leg and the front of her thigh, the girl cried out in pain as she tripped forward and landed with her face and naked chest first into the rocky terrain of the Capital Wasteland. More out of a survival instinct than the actual belief that she could be one of the few people to ever have an encounter with the Wanderer and live to the tale, the slave girl crawled as she tried to lose him, tears running down her face, knowing that she couldn't.

The Wanderer took his time to walk over to her, all the while he whistled the lively tune of the song _Let's Go Sunning_ , which was one of his favorites to listen to whenever they played it on the radio. It really was a great song, he admitted to himself as he gave a little dancing step when he reached the slave girl he had given a chance to escape, and he took a moment to give a grandiose wave of his gun in the air, the Wanderer pretending for a moment that he was just like the lovely young woman from the song who wanted to do whatever 'sunning' actually was.

The Lone Wanderer laughed as he watched the slave girl give up in crawling away from him, and he couldn't help but feel like a ten year old boy on his birthday again. The only difference here being that instead of his best friend Amata giving him an issue of his favorite comic book, he gave himself the present of a naked teenage slave who was shivering and weeping in the dirt. He watched her for another minute or so, and after some time of watching her do nothing else but sob where she was, the Wanderer felt content that it was okay to set his focus on the other slave that he had purchased. He flashed her a grin, reminding her that it would be better for her, if less fun for him, if she didn't try to make a break for it.

The slave who was watching still had her clothes on, and other than being shaken up at what she was witnessing her new master do, and being afraid that she had been purchased by the Demon of the Wastes, she was fine, physically if nothing else. The girl knew what danger she faced if she angered the Wanderer, or if she just so happened to be the closest living thing to him if he ever became bored in her presence.

The Lone Wanderer let a smile settle on his face as he considered the two girls who were now his property. He had wanted them young enough so that they were still hopeful that they could achieve a better life in the Wasteland that was the world, and even though he had had to pay quite a bit extra for the privilege, the Wanderer had insisted to Jones that the girls he needed had to be virgins. He had once heard a saying that a woman in the Wasteland only had one coin to barter, and that it was in between her legs, and there was always a certain charm to be found in being the first to get their hands on a shiny new coin, or, as it usually was with the girls he bought or stole himself, to be the very last as well.

The first girl he had his fun with, the naked one with a shot through her leg, was a pretty thing, with bright auburn hair and pale cream colored skin. Her white skin had turned quite a bit more red after his first night with her, and the coin between her legs had become a bit more dingy and nicked the more he used it, but there was still a tad more fun to be had with her, even if the Wanderer knew she wouldn't last for much longer. The second girl was a different case altogether, considering he hadn't done a single thing to hurt her yet. The second one had ebony colored skin, with hair shorter than his own was, and instead of touching her like he usually did, instead of abusing her like the voices in the ghosts of his bones whispered to him to do, he had simply had her watch as he inflicted the force of nature that was himself on the ginger haired slave girl that had been the subject of his more recent torment. With the thoughts running through his mind, the Wanderer gave girl number two a roguish wink, and turned away from the crying girl at his feet to begin walking over to her.

He stopped in his tracks though when he heard a whimper that was as desperate as it was filled with tears. "Please," he heard the naked girl cry as she sobbed in the dirt, blood dripping from the wound in her thigh, with rocks embedded into her face and her breasts. "Please," she whispered a half dozen more times, the girl shaking with fear as she had the full attention of the Lone Wanderer once more.

"What did you say, sweet girl?" the Wanderer whispered as he bent down, all the while he brought a gentle hand to touch the weeping girl's blood covered face.

There was a flicker of hope in her eyes, but she still cried, the thought to her seeming too far gone according to all the stories she had heard about the Lone Wanderer all throughout the Wasteland. If it wasn't Three Dog on the radio retelling with a heavy heart the grisly adventures of the Wanderer, or the way that mothers threatened their children into behaving by telling them that if they didn't that the Wanderer would catch them to take them back to Vault 1-0-1, then it was that even after all this time, whether living as a Wastelander or a slave, that it wasn't until she had been bought by the Lone Wanderer that she finally believed he was actually real. She trembled as she turned to face him and brought a hand to his face as he had done to her, and she whispered that word again, just as she had moments ago. "Please," she repeated, her cracking voice betraying the fear that she felt, "please."

The Wanderer frowned for a moment, but made no other movement. "Please? I'm supposed to let you go because you said please?" He gave a quick shake of his head, letting his free hand drop to the katana that rested at his hip.

"My father owns a caravan company," the red headed teenager began to plead, tears rolling down her face, "he'll pay you whatever you ask!" her begging face looked pathetic to him, the way it was covered with tears, and blood, and rocks, and the shame she couldn't hide of what he done to her all throughout the night. "Just let me go home. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please!"

Her hand trembled as it still rested on his face, but the shaking stopped for a moment when the naked girl saw him smile, and when she smiled in turn, thinking that maybe she had finally gotten through to him, and that maybe she would actually have a life to look forward to. His head moved much quicker than her hand did, and the girl cried out in pain as the Wanderer's teeth ensnared her pinky and ring finger of her left hand. She continued to yell and scream as he tore off her two fingers with his teeth, and her brain was too focused on her pain that she didn't even register it when the Wanderer nonchalantly spit out her fingers off to the side, laughing, with her blood running down his mouth.

He continued to giggle like a child as blood spurted from the stumps that used to be the girl's fingers, and the Wanderer silenced her screaming with the bottom of his hard leather boot that he pressed against her throat. It wasn't enough to strangle her, and instead just enough to choke her as he tested the pressure and pushed down a little, tired of hearing her whimpering and her screams. He unsheathed his sword, and almost lovingly trailed it across her broken body.

"Your cunt gave me more happiness than your father's money ever could." the Wanderer paused as he then took his sword and shoved it into the gunshot wound that was going through her thigh. She had a spasm and jerked violently when he twisted the rusty steel inside her wound, but he kept the pressure of his boot strong, keeping her silent. "This gives me more happiness."

With his sword he casually poked one of the girl's eyes out, and gave a short chuckle of amusement as he removed his boot from her throat. She wheezed when he did so, and he watched as her screams of pain were replaced with the vomiting of bile, and with spasms of the body that threatened to overtake her, each being something that was much longer than the last. The Lone Wanderer watched her, fascinated for a moment, wondering if she still had hope that maybe everything would get better by the end, and that maybe she would be able to see her loved ones at least one more time in her life. In truth, they were probably dead, the Wasteland being filled with others who were just like him, but the Lone Wanderer gave a simple shrug, the girl having been fun for the most part, but finally starting to bore him. After a few more spasms he quickly stepped over to her, and decapitated her with a casual swing of his sword.

Without bothering to wipe the blood off his sword, the Wanderer sheathed his blade, and bent down to pick the girl's head up. Her name was Mary or Amy, or something that he didn't give a fuck. She had been beautiful when he bought her, nineteen with red hair and eyes that were the clearest green that he had ever seen. Now, now her decapitated head was missing an eye, and many of her teeth as well. It was covered in blood from the rocks she had fallen into, and was bruised and partly broken from all the times he had punched her throughout the night. All in all, he admired his work, and felt that Mary, or Amy, or whatever the fuck, in an odd way had a more twisted beauty to her than when she had actually been alive. He gave her one final kiss, a token of his love, before he tossed the head over his shoulder; a snack for the yao guai.

When he made his way back over to his ebony skinned slave like he had earlier intended, he gave a sigh of disappointment when he found her with closed eyes facing in the opposite direction, tears streaming down her face. The Wanderer considered just shooting her and being done with it, but shook away the thought since his original plan did seem a tad bit more fun the more he thought about it. "You can open your eyes, girl," he told his remaining slave as he grabbed her face and forced a kiss, thinking her dark skin beautiful, "you don't have to be afraid." he lied.

She opened her eyes that were red with tears and hatred, and he kissed her again, before he laughed and backed away a little. "Nothing to say?"

She remained silent and fierce, the girl refusing to give him the same satisfaction as his other victim had given him. In truth, he was a tad bit impressed, and for all it was worth all her fierceness helped to do was give him the excitement he needed to go through with the next game he wanted to play. "How much do you want to live?"

The dark skinned girl said nothing, but for a moment he thought he saw a flicker of hope in her eyes. It was all he needed. The other slave's life had been his, her hope had been his, her cunt had been his, and in the end even her soul had been his. There was no greater game in the world that could be played.

He unsheathed his bloody sword, and dropped it into the dirt at the remaining girl's feet. "You have three hours head start before I go after you. When I catch you, I'm going to fuck you into the dirt. I'm going to show you that what I did to Mary, or Amy, or whatever the fuck her name was, is what I do when I'm being nice."

Without a word he turned around and walked away, and waited, like he knew she would, until he heard her reach down to pick up the sword, and run. He gazed in her direction and watched as she ran and ran, hoping to survive, hoping to be the first one to ever do so. The Lone Wanderer watched her, before he finally smiled at the thought of just how fun his newest hunt would be, a quiet warmth filling his heart.

Pretty flowers need the sun.

* * *

**In no way, shape, or form do I endorse any of what occurred in this story. This is fiction, and a self imposed challenge, and if I made anyone feel uncomfortable, or offended, etc, etc, then I would like to apologize in advance. That was not the purpose of this story. This was simply to hone my writing skills since that is something I hold valuable to my personal self, and I hope that nobody was triggered in any sort of way by my tale.**

I am genuinely thinking about changing the rating to be "M" instead of "T", but we'll see. Truthfully, I'm not sure what actually entails things that are rated "M". I know it isn't allowed on this site technically, but I do know that in the fandoms that I'm usually a part of, that the "M" rating is typically reserved for things of the sexual nature. In any case, do not be surprised about rating changes down the line.

The song that this story is based on is a lot lighter than the darkness of what this turned out to actually be, and I hope that none of you were too disturbed by what I churned out that you hate me for it. Truthfully, I ruffled myself that I was actually able to write what this story eventually came out to be, and I feel that while I completed the challenge I set before myself, that it's a challenge I doubt I'll revisit any time soon.

If any of you guys have any advice on how to handle things such as the ratings of stories like this one or anything like that, let me know, since I would genuinely like to know. Thanks for reading this far, if what I wrote didn't psyche you out too much that you couldn't make it to the end.

Review/comment if you want to. I'd appreciate it.


End file.
